The Big Eight-Oh*

We are made of water
And we are dripping down
Helices uncoiling
Corroded cells must drown

The wrinkled river rolls
With tranquil dignity
Its gritty secrets silt
The passage to the sea

Watchers stroll the shoreline
Entranced by ebb and flow
Their footholds excavated
By riptide undertow

Surfers catch the curl
Of shearing from below
I'll be the Big Kahuna
Ride the Big Eight-Oh

*The Big Eight-Oh refers to an 80-foot wave that is the surfer's Mount Everest. The highest wave ever surfed was estimated at 86 feet (as of 2020).

This poem is dedicated to the Pittsburgh poet-artist-writer-activist janet jai, who succumbed to the ravages of cancer in August of 2024. She was 79, on her eightieth circuit 'round the sun, so she was indeed "riding the big eight-oh."